To Blow A Whistle
by Lawful-Lawless
Summary: When Chris gets a call in the middle of the night regarding information that can bring down those who've wronged him, he jumps at the opportunity. But sometimes, things are too good to be true. So when he's caught up in a plot so convoluted that even the players can't see where it began... It's sink or swim.
1. The Whistleblower

((I own only the ocs that appear))

The phone was ringing.

That sound, like music to his ears, meant something to him. It meant hope, or pain treading on his heart.

Still, Hell or high waters, he'd answer it always. So, with only a glance at the clock that read "1:56 AM", he answered it.

Still a bit groggy, Christopher Redfield's words were slurred when he greeted, "Agent Redfield, BSAA, who's this?"

A charming voice answered in a polite- but clipped- tone immediately. "Hello Mister Redfield. Apologies for the late call, but I happen to have some information regarding a case of yours."

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "A case? But I'm not on a case." He replied in bewilderment. The man on the other end chuckled.

"Why, agent, you and I both know otherwise. There's one case you're always on top of. Always tracking."

Chris stared at the wall, then slowly phrased his question. "Who is this?" He demanded.

"For all intents and purposes, you may call me Alpha. But I believe the name the court would give me is 'whistleblower'. The information will be delivered at Eight Eh Em sharp." The voice drawled. "To your office directly. And if anyone asks, it's a gift from an old friend. In it, you'll have more than enough to put away our... Friends."

The brunette frowned at these words. "Why help, then, Alpha? Why get involved?"

The laugh answering him was deep and hearty. "Because, Mister Redfield. If there is one thing I crave, it's Justice properly served. Have a wonderful rest of your night."

The phone went dead, only a 'click' to end their conversation.

When he set it back down, he smiled at the cheap motorola flip phone he had, thinking.

Wading though high waters never felt so damn good.


	2. Cold Hard Facts

((I own the OCs but that's it))

It was Eight.

The door to his office was left purposely ajar, so they would have to give it straight to him.

Still, with such specific directions, he would have expected it to have been there.

Slowly, he began to stand with a sigh. Another prank call, he bet. And damn, he had been so interested! So convinced! Fooled like an idiot.

But, before he got far, a young boy bustled in, clutching a package to his chest. "P-package for you." He murmured, thrusting it to the agent.

Before he could reply, the blond had turn and fled without so much as another word.

Strange, but at least that meant the other hadn't lied. He sighed in relief as he sat, ripping into the package like a child with a gift.

Inside was a USB drive and a handful of documents. He glanced them over, and then shoved just about everything from his desk. The agent who stood in the doorway stared, but didn't get his attention yet.

Chris spread out the documents, standing and leaning in to read them intently. What these documents suggested- No... What they SAID- was... Well, it was so devastating, none of their current testimonies would stand against it.

Neo Umbrella, the remnants of old Umbrella, and whatever scraps Tricell had left. All of them could collapse at the weight of the words on these papers. He grinned in delight, then pause when he reached the signature. The smile fell from his face. He was pale, and felt dizzy, to the point he had to sit down.

It was signed by Albert. Fucking. Wesker.

Albert Wesker. Albert. Wesker. No matter how many times he mulled over the name, he couldn't believe it. The so called 'gold' was just some shitty pyrite. The whole thing was a bust.

Chris turned to his laptop. He was dreading it, but what was the worst that could go wrong?

He put the USB in a drive and waited for it to load. Video files greeted his eyes, so he set them up to play. One after another. Then he hunkered down to watch.

"Hello Agent Redfield. By now, you've evidently got the mail I sent." The shaded male stated. The dark on camera hid his features well. "Now, I suggest you read the documents first. If you have, then keep watching. Otherwise, pause and do so. ... Now, assuming you've done your reading, you're planning to shut this off and ignore the rest. 'This is bullshit,' you're thinking. 'Even if he was alive, Albert Wesker wouldn't sign those papers. And if he did, why?' Well, to put it simply, his fate is unknown. He did, however, sign those papers, and I have two witnesses who vouched for it. The reason why, so I'm told, is so that if it should ever happen he isn't there to check in, these papers with all this incriminating information was to be released to myself." He explained. Chris hummed under his breath, thinking.

Alpha- evident by his voice- continued. "Now, I do have more information than that, but you'll get more when we meet next. Tuesday, at seven, head to The Olive Garden. Reservation is under the name Wilhelm Von Edrikson. Bring whomever you'd like, or come alone. Your choice. I'll give you some more of what I have. I can't get you everything all at once. They're burrowed too deep. They'll get rid of everything. So, my suggestion is, get a hard drive- A personal one!- and upload copies of EVERYTHING onto it. Keep it on you always, so no one can steal it. And make damn sure that you keep this all 'hush-hush'. Understand? Good."

Before he could continue, a throat was cleared, the sound coming from the doorway. A new fellow by the name of Hans, working for the social services was there. He shuffled, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Something that private shouldn't be heard aloud in a place like this." He commented. "Eyes in the skies and all that. Erm, Jill wanted to see you." He explained. Chris swallowed, yanking out the USB and stuffing it in his pocket along with the papers.

"How much did you hear?" He asked, worried.

Hans looked thoughtful, then smiled knowingly. "Delta." He replied with a shrug, wandering off. The brunette frowned at the other's back, then shook his head. Whatever that meant. Probably new age slang. At any rate, Valentine had something to talk about...

And apparently, so did he.


End file.
